


I'm Sorry

by BeneathTheWillowTree



Category: Warehouse 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneathTheWillowTree/pseuds/BeneathTheWillowTree
Summary: An apology...
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	I'm Sorry

Myka strides into the drawing room, intent on reading quietly on the couch. Movement catches her eye and she whirls, hand grasping at her side for her Tesla but finds nothing. It is on her bedside table. Upstairs. A soft huff escapes as she realizes the movement is H.G., siting in a side chair, feet tucked under her and wiping gingerly at her cheeks. She sniffs and clears her throat, but doesn't speak immediately. Barely a hello has passed between the two women since H.G. returned from Wisconsin earlier in the week. Truthfully, barely a handful of words have passed between them in the year-and-a-half since Myka drove away from Boone, knowing coffee would never happen. 

Myka had found it easy to avoid H.G. this week by jumping at every opportunity to investigate whatever ping managed to pass over Artie's desk, but it had suddenly slowed and Pete and Claudia were out on the latest snag, bag, and tag mission – leaving Myka at the B&B with nothing to do for the day. So here she stands, looking at the very person she was trying hardest to avoid. H.G. peers back at Myka, her face and eyes slightly reddened, her chin is tilted slightly upwards in what appears to be a defiantly quiet challenge, but Myka knows it is a facade to hide her emotions – to pretend she wasn't quietly crying a minute before, in the over-stuffed chair. Alone. In spite of herself, Myka advances towards H.G. until they are but a few feet apart, pulled by that inexplicable magnetic tug always present between them, evidently unavoidable even when Myka has decided she isn't speaking to H.G. just yet.

“Apologies. It was not my intention to startle you.”

Myka keeps her gaze level for a moment, unsure what to say. A frustrating swirl of emotion surfaces, forcing her gaze toward the floor and she toes the gouge Pete left in the wood when he'd dropped a heavy filing cabinet while trying to help move some of Claudia's research files from the B&B to the Warehouse. Myka feels a storm brewing inside her, a well of emotion she has been fighting to keep at bay, threatening to overflow. She wants to tell H.G. she is angry with her, she wants to tell her how annoyed she is that H.G. showed up without warning and time for Myka to prepare, she wants to shout about how much she misses Helena and is suddenly afraid she would disappear again. Instead, she toes the gouge in the floorboards with her shoe and let the silence stretch between them. H.G. sighs. Myka flinches at the sound.

“You're fine.”

Helena hears the things Myka doesn't say in her quiet, delayed response; she can read it in Myka's posture, her refusal to look at Helena while she yet edges closer to where Helena sits. Helena aches at this awkward place they find each other – so many things they want to say but are always sidestepping. She wishes she could apologize until she turns purple, that she could shake Myka and beg her to scream at her if she needs – to at least try – to not waste any more time, and she wants to tell her how utterly wrong she was in trying to chase a dream that has been right in front of her the entire time. She wishes she could turn back time, but she has tried that before. It does not work. Noticing the book in Myka's hand, she sighs and moves to pass by Myka's still form.

“I'll leave you to your book.”

Myka hears the edge but, underneath, there resonates a wistful softness in H.G.'s voice. Without thinking, she reaches out and grabs her arm, catching her solidly in the bicep. Her arm is muscled and firm in Myka's grasp, and while the muscle initially tenses it immediately relaxes beneath Myka's touch and H.G. stops in her tracks. They both drop their arms to their sides, Myka's fingers ghosting along H.G.'s arm as it falls, and they stand side-by-side, facing opposite directions. Myka has a momentary bizarre thought, wondering if they mimic the Janus coin while standing like this – one face looking forward and another looking back. She can't help a small smirk. She knows her resolve is quickly fading, but is suddenly too tired to fight and hold onto her walls. It doesn't help that her hand is brushing the back of H.G.'s, kindling the familiar electric spark that occurs when their bodies are painfully close.

The silence stretches out heavy between them again, the sound of their breathing and the pounding of their hearts rise with cacophonous fervor in their ears. After what feels like a small eternity, Myka finds she is slowly reaching for Helena's hip, pulling her close and noting to herself how easy it was to fall back to thinking of her with the familiarity of her first name. She tosses her book at the chair and her other hand is now able to pull Helena's upper body into her own. Helena bristles for the briefest moment, surprised at the sudden contact, and then wraps her arms around Myka and melts into her with a crushing embrace. Their heads rest on each other's shoulders, warm breath on necks, Helena's hands flexing and rubbing small circles on Myka's back while Myka's own fingers entwine in Helena's thick locks.

“I'm sorry,” they both whisper into each other's necks. It doesn't immediately fix everything but somehow – in this moment – it is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on a longer piece, but keep getting distracted by these random vignettes running through my mind. I hope you enjoy. Thank you.


End file.
